Writing is kind of erotic. Kind of your own special luxury, something you do alone, to please yourself. It’s almost like a secret life. A dirty little secret you don’t share with friends or family who can just never really understand.
Do you feel guilty for the time you write? Are there other people lined up outside your writing door, perhaps listening in at your keyhole, waiting, lurking with all their demands. Do you ignore them just long enough to write one article, one chapter, one paragraph? When you stop writing, break your flow, ruin your focus, do they even appreciate what you gave up to give them this time away from your writing? Wouldn’t you like to live with a sign that says “I’d rather be writing”. Your own personal fetish.
But, when you are in the midst of that writing bubble, when you tune out the world and all you know are the words flowing from your brain to your fingers, isn’t it almost as good (if not better) than an orgasm? Feel those words, use your favourite words, rub them in just the right way. It feels so good to see those sensual, almost exotic, just so good, words again. Sometimes it’s the way they sound. Sometimes it’s the way they look on the page. Sometimes, if you can even admit it to yourself, you just like them for what they are: words, your words.
Writing is like playing with words. Your parents wouldn’t let you play with your food. But now, you can play with your words, it’s almost like something which should be forbidden, it’s almost too good. As you write the tension builds up, the words brushing your mind, smoothing down your skin to caress against the page. You can feel the vibrations of the keyboard as your fingers touch the keys. No wonder we like to keep physical expressions of this erotic nature at hand. Even now, I bet you have a coffee, some tasty treat or other near at hand.
Now, go nibble. Lick your lips and taste those words. Tease them, seduce them and most of all play with your words.